


Pale Horseman

by clgfanfic



Category: Soldier of Fortune Inc.
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 11:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a reworking of the Seven Days episode "Ebola."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pale Horseman

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine A Small Circle of Friends #5 and later in Watch Your Six #1 with Mary Fallon Zane.

Benny Ray Riddle rose slowly from his well-concealed hide to watch his teammates, Jason "Chance" Walker and Margo Vincent, carefully scale the steep side of the rise below him.  The former Marine sniper grinned.  This was going to be even easier than he'd expected.  _Mr. Murphy must be on vacation_ , he thought almost gleefully.

He glanced to his right, his light blue eyes meeting a pair of angry brown ones.  Ex-SAS member Christopher "C.J." Yates sat on the cold, damp ground, bound, gagged, and expertly secured to the rough trunk of a tree.  The Brit continued to glower at the sniper, his expression promising that hell would be paid for his current indignity.

Benny Ray used hand-signals to silently tell C.J. that two more victims were on their way to the slaughter.  The brown-haired demolition-expert rolled his eyes and puffed derisively through flared nostrils.  The sniper ignored the unspoken, but clear message: "In your dreams, mate."

Benny Ray Riddle _was_ going to get the drop on his teammates, and nothing but nothing was going to stop him, with the possible exception of one Matthew Q. Shepherd.  Where was the Major, anyway? 

Benny Ray took a moment to scan the trees, the shadows and the tall grass that covered the top of the rise where he lay, waiting.  There was no movement, no sharp angles in the shadows, nothing at all to suggest that the ex-Delta Force officer was anywhere near his location.  And that's what had the sniper worried.

Turning his attention back to the approaching twosome, he watched them with the eyes of a human predator.  They had picked the best possible trail up the side of the hill -- best if they wanted to avoid detection, that is.  But it meant that they were working twice as hard, maneuvering over rocks and through heavy brush that required them to basically crawl slowly up the steep elevation.  And it was all going to be for nothing.

Not that he didn't understand _why_ they were willing to expend the effort to stake out the high ground, it was the easiest to defend, which was exactly why he'd taken it for himself.  Now all he had to do was capture Chance and Margo, then find Shepherd and take him out before the man found him.  Easier said than done, on both counts.  But he was up to the challenge, he was sure of it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

He edged closer to the lip of the escarpment and peered down.  They were making good time, better than he'd expected.  But that was to his advantage.  The sooner he took them out, the sooner he could turn his attention to Shepherd.  Silently, he urged the pair on.

When they finally worked their way into his line of fire, Benny Ray calmly lifted his weapon, took careful aim and shot Chance first, then Margo.  They both slumped heavily to the ground, lying motionless for several seconds.

Then they both looked up, glaring daggers at the sniper.  He wagged his finger at them, then curled it twice, silently ordering them to climb the rest of the way to him.

Less than ten minutes later Chance and Margo had joined C.J. around the tree trunk.  Benny Ray double-checked their bonds, then grabbed his weapon and slipped into the tall grass, hunting for Shepherd.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matthew Shepherd knew he was being hunted.  The feeling haunted him, prickling the short hairs on the back of his neck and along his forearms.  He picked up his pace, hoping to reach a small stand of trees some thirty yards off before he got himself shot.  Deciding to take a chance, he bent forward slightly and sprinted the last ten yards across open ground, zigzagging as he went.

Once inside the grove, he eased into the tree-shadows and crouched down, peering back at the tall grass he'd just run through.  _Where is he?  Where is he?  Come on… where?  Damn it._

Shepherd's grip on his weapon tightened.  He could feel the sniper moving in on him, getting closer and closer.  Benny Ray's presence was like a tangible pressure faintly squeezing the surface of his skin.  But there was nothing – no movement, no sound – to give the man away.  _Scout sniper school must be better than I thought.  Where the hell is he?_

Shepherd didn't stop to analyze how he knew it was Riddle who was stalking him; he simply stood and moved farther into the trees, trying to ferret out a defensible position.  Finding nothing he liked, he opted for the best location he could uncover.  The continuing press of Benny Ray's presence made Matt's nerves raw, but he ignored the nagging sensation, his gaze darting from shadow to shadow, searching for the sniper.

The crack of a dried leaf finally gave the man away, but it was too late.  Shepherd's weapon snapped up, but before he could fire he felt the impact of Benny Ray's shot as it caught him at the back of his neck.  His head snapped forward with the force.  "Damn, that's stings!" he yelped out loud.

A moment later the grinning sniper was standing in front of him, looking too damned smug for his own good.  "That puts me on top this month," he drawled happily.

Shepherd sighed heavily and nodded, then reached up and rubbed the back of his neck.  His fingers came away red and sticky.  He stared at the goo, then looked at Benny Ray, his eyes rounding.  "You got the others already?"

"Yep," the sniper replied, looking damned pleased with himself.

Matt shook his head, then grinned.  "I think you just set a new team record.  You pick the place for supper tonight."

Benny Ray thought a moment, then named his favorite steak house.

Matt knew it was going to be an expensive evening, but it was worth it.  The exercises helped keep them sharp and helped them bond as a team.  And it certainly made it more interesting when they worked with the local SWAT units, playing their tangos.  He was about to suggest that they go collect the rest of the team when the distant _wop-wop-wop_ of an approaching chopper stopped him. 

"Think that's for us?" the sniper asked, looking both annoyed and curious.

"Who else would be out here in the middle of nowhere?" Matt replied a moment before his beeper sounded.  He fished into a pocket and pulled it out.  _Need all of you now.  Use chopper, Trout_ was the message.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

A dirty, disheveled group of five operators entered Trout's expensive hotel suite.  The older man motioned for them to sit, then ran a hand over his graying brown hair, nervousness making him wish they'd hurry.  When the five were settled, he walked over and sat down himself.  "I'm sorry to interrupt your quiet weekend in the country," he began, then noticed several of the team members were scowling at the sniper.  "I take it you were the victor, Mr. Riddle?"

Benny Ray replied with a modest shrug, but there was a grin on his face.

Trout allowed himself the luxury of a brief smile.  "I have an assignment for you."

"A little short notice, isn't it?" Margo asked, wishing she could go soak in a hot tub.

"Time for a shower would've been nice," C.J. added under his breath.

Trout grinned ruefully.  "I can see that, Mr. Yates, but I'm afraid this particular situation is time sensitive."

"What have you got?" Matt asked, shooting the rest of his team a warning glare. Business was business, and there was no time for games.

"Have you heard of the Stardust Foundation?" Trout asked as he stood and walked over to a waiting coffee carafe sitting on a counter.

"A front for a government research lab, I believe," Margo supplied as Trout poured coffee into six waiting cups.

He turned, his eyes slightly wide.  "Very good, Ms. Vincent.  And I won't ask how you came by that information."

Margo smiled and cocked her head just slightly.  "How gallant."

"The Stardust Project was started in the late 80s to ostensibly develop cures for potential biological weapons already in the hands of our enemies."

"Ostensibly?" Matt asked.

Trout shrugged, then carried the tray of full coffee cups over and set it down on the coffee table.  "Help yourself, people," he offered, then added, "Naturally, one thing led to another, cures suggested new potential weapons—"

"Which we had to develop in order to find more cures for them, leading to more potential weapons, more cures, and so on," Margo finished for him.

Trout nodded.

"What happened, sir?" Benny Ray asked.

"There are four Stardust facilities scattered across the country," Trout explained. "Early yesterday, and then again today, there were attempted thefts of an experimental infectious agent, a virus to be exact, at two of the four facilities."

"Oh, that's just bloody wonderful," C.J. breathed softly.

"In both cases it was someone on the inside, and in both cases, they killed themselves before authorities could question them," Trout continued as if he hadn't heard the comment.  "We're sure they were acting on the orders of someone else, but so far no clues on who, or what organization, might be behind the attempts."

"It gets better and better," Chance sighed, shaking his head.

"We're guessing that similar attempts will be made at the remaining two facilities. I have a plane standing by to take you to the facility in Colorado."

"Why us?" Matt asked.

Trout tone was deadly serious as he explained, "Because we don't know who might be involved, or what kind of clearance they might have.  The men who died?  One was an Army major, the other was an ex-NSA scientist. If we send in someone official, we might tip our hand, and—"

"They might get away with what they're after," Shepherd finished.

"What kind of virus are they after?" Margo asked.

"A genetically engineered strain of the Ebola virus," Trout said, then sighed heavily and shook his head.  "It's five hundred times more virulent than the actual disease.  After an airborne exposure, victims will begin bleeding from the nose within four hours.  After six hours their lungs will begin to bleed and they will become highly contagious.  At twelve hours, anyone exposed will slip onto a coma and they will be dead inside of twenty-four.  Even the slightest exposure can lead to death."

"My God," Margo said, "in the hands of terrorists--"

"Four of those vials would be enough to wipe out millions— Hell, _billions_ of people if the virus was released in the right way," Trout interrupted.  "And believe me, these people know the right way."

"The _right_ way?" Matt asked.

"You know what I mean," Trout snapped.  "Look, if the pattern continues, tomorrow or the next day, someone at the Colorado facility will try and remove a vial of the virus – Ebola 55-D.  I want you there to stop him.  What do you say?"

"That plane got a shower?" Benny Ray asked as he stood.

"I'll see that it does," Trout replied, looking at Matt.

Shepherd nodded.  "We're good to go."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

The FBI agent looked up at the nondescript apartment complex, then checked the address he'd written down in a small black notebook.  This was the right place.  Climbing out of his car, he locked the door, then headed for unit 201.

Locating the correct door, he knocked and waited for Kevin Morrison to answer.  Then the door finally opened he offered the man a perfunctory smile and said, "Agent Brian Michael, FBI, may I come in?"

Kevin frowned and Agent Michael noted that the thirty-something blond looked harmless enough.  In fact, he had an almost effeminate air to him, enhanced by pale blond hair, equally pale blue eyes and a round, baby-like face.  But on a second look the agent realized that Morrison was also broad-shouldered and his arms looked strong.

"FBI?" Kevin finally asked, his expression confused.

"Yes, sir.  Could I come in?  I'd like to ask you a few questions, just routine."

Kevin's eyebrows knitted together in annoyance, but he stepped out of the doorway so Agent Michael could pass.

Inside the man's apartment the agent paused, looking around.  All the curtains were drawn, casting the interior into a permanent twilight.  But there was enough light to reveal the religious quotes, carefully printed on five by seven inch index cards and taped to nearly every available surface – the bookshelves, the TV, the lamps, the coffee table, even the walls.  He read a few of the quotes and swallowed hard.

"What did you want to ask me?" Kevin asked, his voice soft, almost taunting.

Agent Michael took a deep breath and took a step back closer to the door.  "There's been a couple of security breaches," he said, his gaze drawn to one index card that read "A bitter harvest."

"Security breaches?" Kevin echoed.  "What does that have to do with me?  Would you like a cup of tea?"

Before Agent Michael could say no, Kevin turned and disappeared into what the FBI man thought must be the kitchen.  With Morrison gone, the agent relaxed slightly.  He made a silent pass through the room.  The bookshelves were lined with religious books and he counted at least twenty bibles scattered across the room.  The sign of Cain, an inverted cross, had been drawn onto the television screen with a thick black marker.  The knobs were missing.  He swallowed again and felt the sweat begin to roll down his back.  Kevin Morrison was a certified wacko.  Whether he planned to steal a vial of Ebola virus, the agent didn't know, but it was his job to find out.

"I understand that you work in one of the Ebola labs," he called.

"Yes, I do," Kevin replied from the other room.

"Have you, uh, noticed anything unusual recently?" the agent asked as he listened to the sound of clinking cups.

"In the lab?"

"Yeah," he replied, wondering if someone as obsessed as Kevin Morrison obviously was could notice anything "unusual."

"No, nothing out of the ordinary," Kevin called.  "Do you take sugar?  Cream?"

"Sugar," Agent Michael said, leaning over to move an open bible lying on the coffee table.  Under the book was a map of the Denver International Airport.  He was about to ask if Kevin was going to take a trip when he felt the wire cut deeply into his throat.  He clawed at the garrote as a stab of hot pain sliced through his throat.  His fingers clawed at the wire, but he couldn't stop the pressure.  Blackness closed in on his vision.

"You and all your minions cannot stop me," he heard Kevin hiss.  "You and the rest of the devils will be destroyed.  God has spoken and His word will not be denied."

The last thought to cross Agent Michael's mind was a flash of remorse.  He was going to be late for his second date with Samantha Cleary.

Kevin yanked the wire twice, then let the body of the FBI agent fall to the floor. He stood over the dead man, indecision making it impossible for him to move. Then he glanced down at the map of DIA.

He had to go now.  They were suspicious.  He could not fail God.

He looked down at his watch, then smiled.  There was time.  God would see to it he had all the time he needed, of that he was sure.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt led the way into the secured facility.  Before the team was halfway down the entry hall they were met by a man in a white lab coat.  His light brown hair was cut short, helping to hide a receding hairline.  He looked trim and fit, and wore gold, wire-rim glasses.  He smiled and extended a hand.  "Mr. Shepherd?"

Matt nodded, accepting the proffered hand and giving it a firm shake.  He noted the man's calluses and filed the information away.  He smiled and said, "We're here to take a look at your—"

"I was informed," the man interrupted with a friendly smile.  "I'm Dr. Tennison.  If you'd come with me?"

For the next fifteen minutes Matt and the others were led on a sightseeing tour of the Stardust facility, but they were not shown any of the classified labs.

When they finally reached the cafeteria Margo sighed and said, "Why don't you tell us what you can about this Ebola strain."

The man glanced at the floor, then at Margo, smiling.  "I'd be happy to, but why don't we get a cup of coffee before—"

"The lady asked ya a question," Benny Ray said softly, but the threat was clear in his non-nonsense tone.

Matt cocked his head slightly to one side, his eyes narrowing.  "I don't think he knows, Benny Ray," he said.  "I think we've been given the run-around by a decoy."

The man shifted from foot to foot, a shine of sweat on the man's face confirming Shepherd's analysis.  "Look, I—"

"Tom, thank you," an older man interrupted as he walked up to join them.  He extended his hand to Shepherd.  "I'm Dr. London.  I'm sorry about the, uh, tour, but I had to have you checked.  You understand.  You've been cleared."

"'About bloody time," C.J. muttered under his breath.

"If you will all please follow me," London said, ignoring the comment.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Dressed in top-level contamination suits, the team followed Dr. London through an initial airlock.  Past that was another airlock.  By the time they reached the actual lab, they had passed through a total of four locks.  "To ensure that there is no possible chance of an accidental release," the scientist explained.

In the lab, the team waited while the doctor opened yet another locked door. But it wasn't another airlock.  This door opened on a small room where row upon row of small drawers waited.  London stepped up and opened one tray.  He glanced down and his breath caught in his throat.  "Oh my God," he breathed a moment before his knees buckled and he collapsed.

          "Doctor?" Matt asked as he and Chance grabbed the man, keeping him from falling to the floor.

          "Matt," Margo said, her voice tight and full of fear.  "There's a vial missing.  We're too late."

          "It's not possible," Dr. London wheezed.  "It's not possible."

          "Is that it?" Matt asked, giving the still sagging man a jerk.  "Is that the Ebola 55-D?"

          London nodded.  "It's gone.  My God, it's the end of humanity."  The man's eyes rolled back in his head as he passed out.

          Matt and Chance lowered him to the floor.

          "I think he's having a heart attack, sir," Chance said.

          Margo spotted the red button marked "Emergency" and slapped her palm against it.  An alarm immediately began ringing, the sound echoing loudly through the confined space of the lab.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Kevin gripped his walkman tighter, his palms damp with sweat.  He crossed the lobby and pushed the door open, stepping outside.  He was almost free.  The seals would be broken.  He would bring the end times to the world, just like God had told him to.  Just ahead of him he saw Angela Parret.  He felt the desire immediately flare in his groin and tried to force it away.  She was unclean, a child of Satan.  Still, he had to try one last time to save her immortal soul.

          "Angela?" he called.

          The woman stopped and turned.  He could tell by her expression that he was wasting his breath.  She found him dull and uninteresting.  But God commanded him to try.  She shifted her weight back onto one foot.  She wanted to cross her arms, to ward him off, but she didn't.  She forced a smile instead.  He wished she would just spit on him.  It was what she wanted to do.  He knew it was.

          "Angela," he said, his voice characteristically hesitant, nervous.  She was so beautiful.

          "Hi, Kevin," she said, suppressing a small sigh.  "Can I help you?"

          She hated him.  She desperately hated him, but he had to try.  "Angela, have you renounced Satan?"

          An indulgent smile crossed her face along with an unspoken "Oh, please," but she replied, "I dumped my boyfriend, if that's what you mean."

          Kevin fought back the immediate retort that burned on the tip of his tongue.  She could not be saved.  Why did he bother trying?

          _Because God commands me to_ , he chastised himself.

          "Angela, I'm going to the airport," he said haltingly.  "To, uh, hand out pamphlets. I was hoping you might like to come with me.  We could get to know each other better."

          Angela looked down at her shoes.  "That's very nice, Kevin, but I can't.  I'm, uh, I'm busy tonight."

          Kevin took a step closer to the young woman.  "What if this was the last night of your life?" he asked, his voice straining with undisguised hope.

          She snorted softly.  "I guess I wouldn't worry about doing my roots," she replied, then took a step closer to the parking lot.  "Look, Kevin, I really have to get going."

          He drew himself up.  The wrath of God would strike her down for her insolence.  "You really should have listened to me, Angela.  Now you've missed your chance."

Kevin stormed past her, his shoulder bumping her shoulder.  Angela's purse slid down her arm and dropped to the ground, its contents spilling free.

          "Hey!" she cried, but Kevin ignored her.  He strode to his car and climbed in.  The last thing he saw was Angela, bending down to gather up her belongings.

"You had your chance," he hissed as he headed for the security gate.  "God offered you redemption and you refused.  You truly are Satan's child."

The guard at the exit checked Kevin's ID, then opened the gate, allowing him to pass.  A moment later the alarm sounded.  The guard pressed the button to lock the gate down.  Just outside, Kevin turned the corner, heading for the airport.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Matt looked up as the man who had given them the run-around earlier walked briskly up to join them.  "Was that 55-D?" Shepherd asked.

          "Yes," the man said, refusing to meet Matt's gaze.  "We don't know when it was taken—"

          "You don't know?" C.J. interrupted.  "That's just bloody wonderful."

          "There has to be some kind of log," Margo argued.  "Some way to know who was in that room."

          "Yes, of course," Tennison replied.  "But everyone on the list had clearance for the lab."

          "How's Dr. London?" Margo asked.

          "They think he suffered a mild heart attack.  He's resting as comfortably as he can given what we're facing."        

          "Which is?" Matt demanded.

          The man looked around, then dropped his voice and said, "It's one of the new engineered Ebola viruses.  We created it to develop cure scenarios."

          "The cure's gonna be worse than the damned disease," Benny Ray growled.

          "Look," the security man said, "whoever took that vial is clever and he's gotta have a death wish."

          "Have we been exposed?" Margo asked, looking worried.

          "No," Tennison said.  "The vial will protect the public, unless it's broken."

          "And if it is broken?" Chance asked.  "Then what?"

          "People die."  The man ran a trembling hand over his hair.  "Within twenty-four hours we'll have bodies stacking up."

          "Mr. Tennison?" another, younger man interrupted.

          The team and their security man looked up.  "What is it, Teddy?"

          "Three people left before the alarm," the man said as he handed over three file folders.

          Tennison glanced at each folder, reading the names aloud, "Colbert, Keevers, and Morrison."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          A young woman, standing nearby looked up.  She walked over to join them, saying, "Did I just hear you say Morrison?  Kevin Morrison?"

          Tennison, glanced down to check the name on the folder.  "Yes.  Why?"

          She glanced nervously at the floor, searching for the words.

          "Miss, if you have something to say, say it," Matt urged.

          She looked up.  "It's just that I saw Kevin before he left.  He was acting… strange."

          "Strange?" Margo asked.

          "Stranger than he normally is," she clarified.

          "Look, Miss…?"  Matt said, trailing off.

          "Angela," she said.  "Angela Carson."

          "Angela, just tell us what he said."

          She paused a moment, then related as much of the conversation as she could remember.  She concluded with, "There was no way I was going to go with him.  I mean, everyone knows he's obsessed with the Bible."

          Matt and Tennison exchanged looks.  "The airport," the security man said, "it's perfect.  Lots of people.  They'd carry it all over the globe."

          Shepherd nodded toward the door.  "Come on, people."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Kevin walked along the terminal, muttering under his breath.  Men and women passed by, but he didn't even notice them.  He knew he was about to fulfill his purpose. Soon he would enact God's will.

He smiled, a beatific expression that prompted an answering smile from a young woman as he passed her.  But her smile faded when she realized that Kevin's eyes were as cold and dead as old charcoal.

          "And I looked," Kevin hissed softly, his expression shifting, becoming more predatory, "and behold, I saw a pale horse."  He reached into his pocket and cupped the vial in his hand, stroking the smooth glass with his thumb.  "And death rode that horse, and hell followed after him."

          His voice rose slightly as he continued through the terminal.  He knew where he was going, had worked there when he was younger.  He knew where they were the most vulnerable.  "They're vipers, all vipers.  Spawn of Satan.  They seek peace, but they find none."

          An older woman stared at Kevin and his voice fell back to a harsh whisper.  He could not get caught.  Not now.  Not this close to God's victory.  "There shall be a bitter harvest.  Oh yes, a bitter harvest."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The team arrived at the airport and headed directly to the security office.  A call from Trout while they were enroute cleared the red-tape and got them into the security chief's office, and from there, he took them to a bank of video monitors.

          "Who are we looking for?" the older man asked, his haircut and bearing suggesting that he was ex-military.

          "Male, Caucasian.  Blond and blue.  Six foot.  Late twenties.  Light-colored clothes," Matt supplied.

          The man nodded to one of the women who was seated in front of a computer terminal.  She quickly typed and the images on three of the video monitors changed, and continued to switch at regular intervals.  On the screen for about ten seconds were images of men who fit the general profile.

          "Cool," Chance said softly.

          Almost three minutes later Margo pointed to one of the screen, saying, "There."

          The woman at the computer reached out, her long fingernails clicking across the keys.  The image froze on the screen, then the camera stayed with Kevin as he walked along, his lips moving even though there was no one there that he could be talking to.

          "Wonder what he's saying," C.J. mused.

          "Don't think I wanna know, amigo," Benny Ray replied, studying the man's eyes.  Kevin Morrison was already dead inside.

          "That's the main terminal," the security chief said.  "Looks like he's headed for Terminal A."

          "What there?" Matt asked.

          "Gates for United, India Airlines, and a couple of the discount airlines," the security chief said.  "Smoking lounge for the passengers.  A break room for the attendants and crews, a few food vendors, newsstands—"

          "The lounge," Margo and Matt interrupted in unison.

          "It's between Gates A24 and A26," the older man said.

          The five team members turned and were out the door before the security man could say, "Get security over to A."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          "There," Margo said, nodding.

          Matt and Benny Ray both spotted Kevin a moment later.  They shifted course, swiftly closing the distance between them and the man.

          "Chance.  C.J.," Matt said into his lip mike, the Motorola communications units the only addition to their civilian clothes.

          "Here, sir," Chance said into Shepherd's earpiece.

          "We have him.  Gate A17, near the escalators."

          "Roger, we're on the way."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Kevin felt the eyes watching him, but he kept walking.  God would keep him safe. He was doing God's will.  Still, he couldn't stop himself from glancing over his shoulder.

He spotted the threesome immediately and quickened his step.  He had to reach the lounge.  If he could expose the flight attendants to the virus they would carry it to all the nations of the Earth.  They would be like angels, carrying God's message of vengeance to all the unclean.

          "Hey, Kevin," one of the men following him called.

          He refused to look.  He refused to stop.  He could not be deterred from doing God's work.  And the voice of his God said so, whispering into his ear to ignore the man, to keep walking, that he was almost there.

          "Kevin, stop."

          The man sounded more insistent now, but then, so too did the voice of God.  Kevin could not ignore the voice of God.  He hunched his shoulders and tucked his chin as he leaned forward, walking faster.

          "Kevin!"

          He couldn't help himself.  He looked and silently cursed his weakness.

          Matt stared into Kevin Morrison's eyes.  They were bright with determination and madness.  He'd seen the look before, on the faces of fanatics who were about to die for their cause.  "Kevin, we need to talk," he said calmly, but he knew he wasn't going to talk the man out of his plans.

          Morrison shook his head.

          "Kevin, we know what you're planning," Shepherd continued.

The man's eyes rounded slightly with surprise.  "You don't know," Kevin hissed.  "I am God's servant.  I'm doing His work.  He promised them a bitter harvest, and the time has come for them to reap what they have sown."

          "God promises us forgiveness, too," Benny Ray said, his voice soft and unthreatening.

          Kevin's gaze shifted from Matt to the sniper.  "There is no forgiveness.  It's too late for that!  They will feel the wrath of God.  He will kill them all!  Men, women, children, they are all evil!  And they must die!"

          "Christ embraced the children," Benny Ray, his voice still soft and comforting. "He died so we can all live."

          "God has spoken!" Kevin shouted, squeezing the vial in the palm hard enough to leave deep indentations in his skin.

Curiosity halted the passersby and Margo gently prompted them along as unobtrusively as possible while Matt slowly inched closer and closer to Kevin.

Shepherd nodded to Benny Ray, letting the sniper know he needed to keep Kevin talking.

          "God talks to you?" Benny Ray asked, hoping he could hit on a topic that would spark the man into sermon.

          Kevin glowered at the sniper, then growled, "Yes, He speaks to me.  I am His servant.  I am pure!  You and all those like you are the children of Satan!"

          "Not everyone," Benny Ray said, his voice harder, holding the man's attention.  "There's good people out there.  Good, God-fearing people.  You tellin' me God wants them dead, too?"

          "They all have to die!  He will purge the world of evil!" Kevin said, his voice shrill. "God has spoken!  You cannot change His will!"

          "His will or yours?" Benny Ray demanded.  "Sounds like you're tuned into the wrong channel, amigo."

          Before Kevin could reply, Matt lunged for him.  But Shepherd underestimated the man's passion-enhanced strength, and Kevin managed to wrench himself free.

Benny Ray dove for Morrison, catching him around the middle, but Kevin struggled forward, reaching the escalator.  But Benny Ray's weight slowed him down, making each movement clumsy and slow.  Kevin's foot slipped forward on the step as his ankle gave way.

Benny Ray, trying to maneuver Morrison into a restraint hold, felt the man lunge forward.  He grabbed tighter and too late realized that Kevin was falling.  Given his tight hold, he had no choice but to fall with him.  He could hear Matt and Margo behind him, scrambling down the moving steps.

Kevin's arms flailed wildly, striking a woman a couple of steps ahead of him.  She squealed and bolted down the remainder of the steps.

Benny Ray and Kevin continued to struggle, but as they neared the bottom, the sniper saw Chance and C.J. sprinting through the crowd.  It would soon be over, one way or the other.

When they reached the bottom, Benny Ray used his considerable strength to force Morrison away from the escalators, but the voice rang loud in Kevin's ears, commanding him to fight, and he did – with everything he had.

The two men ended up on the floor.  Kevin's hand shot out, his fist tight.  "We will all die!" he screamed, his fingers curling off the vial.

"Major!" Benny Ray shouted, knowing he couldn't stop the man before he smashed the glass against the floor.

But a man, scurrying to escape the fray, kicked Kevin's hand, sending the vial sliding across the slick floor.

Matt and Margo immediately turned their attention to the virus while Chance and C.J. helped Benny Ray get Kevin under control.

Another kick from the tip of a man's cowboy boot sent the vial skimming across the floor and out an open door where it came to rest on the sidewalk where passengers were arriving with their bags.  Seeing a woman who was unaware of the danger step out of a cab and start for the door, Matt dove for the vial.  The woman stopped, a yelp escaping her lips as he slid on the sidewalk, his fingers cupping over the vial to protect it from other feet.

Ignoring Matt, Margo bolted to the cab, demanding, "A flare!  Give me a flare!"

The cab driver, not knowing what else to do, gave her what she had asked for.

Margo swung back to ward Matt, the flare in her hand.  She pulled the tab on the flare and moved forward.  Matt pulled his hand away, letting her shove the burning end of the flare against the glass.

Matt looked up at her from the ground and grinned.  "Good thinking."

She flashed him a smile.  "Better to be safe—"

"Than sorry," he finished.

She nodded.

"You won't get an argument from me," Shepherd added as he climbed to his feet.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Back at the lab, gathered around a large conference table, Trout poured coffee for the team.  "I wish it was champagne," he said.

"Me, too," Margo said with a grin.

"Good work, people, very good work," Trout continued.

"What about the last facility?" Matt asked.

"The team dispatched to the facility caught the man in the act.  He killed himself, just like the others.  We have Morrison on a suicide watch.  He tried to cave in his own skull on a wall."

          "Fanatics," C.J., shaking his head.

          "Of the worst kind," Trout agreed.  "Morrison killed the FBI agent sent to check on the staff at the facility."  He shook his head, then he smiled.  "But, since this wasn't exactly a paying mission, I'm going to express my appreciation by springing for a vacation in Denver."

          "All expenses paid, sir?" Chance asked, looking interested.

          Trout hesitated a moment, then nodded.  "You've earned it.  I've already arranged reservations for you at the Brown Palace – through the weekend."

          "The Brown Palace?" Benny Ray asked.

          "You'll love it," Margo assured him.  "It's very… historic."

          Benny Ray's eyebrows arched, but he didn't say anything.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The team stepped away from the registration desk, keys in hand and smiles on their faces.  Trout had reserved one of the best suites in the hotel for them.

          "So, what's the plan?" C.J. asked, looking around at the open ceiling that allowed a view of the upper floors.

          "I don't know about you, but I want to take a long hot shower," Margo said, "then something to eat."

          "A steak," Benny Ray added.  "Rare.  Y'all owe me, remember?"

          Matt grinned.  "That sounds good to me."

          The others nodded.

          "And then?" Margo asked.

          "Little night crawling?" Chance asked, looking hopefully.

          The others agreed with nods and smiles.

          "Guess that makes me the designated driver," C.J. said.

          "You got it, amigo," Benny Ray grinned.

          Matt checked his watch.  "Okay, people, do what you have to, and we'll meet in the bar in, what, an hour?"

          "Depends on how many bathrooms this suite has," Benny Ray said.

          C.J. and Chance chuckled.

          "What's that supposed to mean?" Margo demanded.

          "Nothin'," the sniper replied as they reached the elevators.

          "No, that was something," she countered.  "What?"

          "Nothin'," Benny Ray said again, grinning as they stepped into the elevator car.

          Margo followed, shaking her head.  She sighed heavily as the door closed.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Matt was the first to arrive at the bar.  He took a seat and smiled at the bartender, who was busily wiping down the bar-top while it was relatively quiet.  She was trim and pretty with short red-blonde hair and dark brown eyes that sparkled with good humor.

"What can I get you?" she asked with a friendly smile.

          "Beer," Matt said.  "Something on tap."

          The bartender left her towel and turned to fill a tall glass.

          Matt glanced around, looking for the others.  Nothing.  He sneezed.

          "God bless," the bartender said automatically.

          "Thanks," Matt said, his hand automatically coming up to his nose.  It came away wet.  He looked.

          Blood.

          For a long second Matt sat, unable to move off  the barstool.  He was bleeding from his nose.  _The vial.  It must have cracked.  The Ebola_.

          Reaching out, Matt grabbed the towel and pressed it over his nose and mouth.  Then he bolted out of the bar, roughly shoving past two laughing couples on their way in.

Charging through the lobby, Shepherd wove deftly through people who were checking in, heading for the bar, or simply mingling in the spacious lobby.  Many stopped to stare at him, the white towel held over his face catching their attention.  He ignored them all, even the brave few who asked if he needed help.

In short order, Matt burst out the entrance doors and stepped out onto the sidewalk.  A security man who hovered near the doors immediately stepped up to him, asking, "Can I help you, sir?"

          With speed and focus that surprised the security man, Shepherd grabbed for the man's sidearm, drawing it before he really had time to react.

"Get back," Matt snarled behind the towel.

          The security man scrambled back, his hands coming up.  "Take it easy, buddy," he said, trying to sound calm but failing badly.

          Watching the security man in his peripheral vision, Matt sprinted into the street, forcing a gold-colored Saturn to screech to a halt in order not to hit him.  Stepping up to the driver's door, Matt tapped the window with the Browning 9 mm he'd taken from the security man.  "Get out!" he yelled, the towel still held over his nose and mouth.

          A brown-haired young woman, her green eyes unnaturally wide, opened the car door.  "W-What?" she asked, her voice hardly above a whisper.

          Matt reached in and grabbed her sweater at the shoulder, dragging her out of the car.  She squealed, but she didn't fight.  When she was clear, Matt climbed into the car, throwing the bloody towel on the passenger seat, then pulled the door shut and roared off down the street.  He rounded the corner, one hand groping for the lever to move the seat back.  A moment later he had the much-needed leg room.

          Glancing into the rearview mirror, he watched for lights that would tell him the police were already on his tail.  There was nothing.  He had some time.  He could disappear into the traffic.  But he knew he had to get out of the city, and as soon as possible.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Margo and the others walked into the bar and immediately knew something was wrong.  The air buzzed with confusion and fear.  She headed to the bar, catching the bartender's eye.  She walked down to join Margo.  "Can I help you?"

          "What happened?" the operator asked, looking around for Matt.

          "Some guy went nuts; tore out of here, grabbed a gun, even hijacked a car."

          Benny Ray stepped up next to Margo.  "This guy in his thirties, tall, short dark hair?"

The bartender nodded.  "Yeah.  I mean, he seemed like a nice guy."

"Did he say anything?" Margo asked.

The woman shook her head.  "He ordered a beer, that's all.  Then he sneezed.  I say 'God bless', turned around and the next thing I knew, he was heading for the door.  It was the strangest thing I ever saw."

"Strange?" Chance asked, he and C.J. having moved up to flank Benny Ray and Margo.

"Yeah," the bartender said.  "It was like he didn't want anyone to recognize him."

"Pardon?" C.J. asked.

"He was holding a towel over his face," she explained, miming how Matt had held the cloth.

          Chance reached out, resting a hand lightly on Margo's shoulder.  "He must think he's infected."

          "Maybe he is," C.J. said softly, his worried gaze flickering from Margo and Chance to Benny Ray.

          "Come on," the sniper said his expression as serious as any of them had seen it.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Matt drove for almost an hour, eventually finding his way out of the city and into a less populated area.  Finding an old gas station just off the highway, he pulled off and parked near the pay phone, where someone stood, talking.  Glancing around, he could see that the station itself was no longer in operation, or was in the process of changing ownership.

Shepherd slipped the Browning into his pocket, then grabbed the towel again, pressing it over his nose and mouth.  He climbed out of the car and walked over to the booth, stopping a few feet away.  Inside, the door shut, a young man was talking.

          "Excuse me," Matt called, "I need to use the phone."

          The young man ignored the interruption.

          Matt tried a second time.  "Hey, emergency, get off the phone."

          The young man turned and stared at Matt, then snorted and looked away, talking again – something about deals of snowboards.

          "Hey, emergency, do you understand what an emergency is?" Matt called, almost dropping the towel.

          Cupping his hand over the received, the young man snapped, "You understand bite me?"

          Matt's anger flared.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out the Browning, holding it up.  "You understand this?" he asked.

          The young man's eyes rounded. 

          "Get out – now!" Shepherd ordered.

          The man dropped the receiver and pushed the glass door open.  He slid past the opening, moving off in a wide arc to ensure he didn't touch Matt, then sprinted for his car.  Matt watched him pull out of the station, his tires screeching.

          Stepping into the booth, Matt grabbed the receiver, hung it up, then dialed.  Waiting for Trout to answer, Matt saw a police cruiser pull the young man's old Mustang over.  He would bring the cop back, that was a given.  Slamming the receiver back into the cradle, he headed back to the Saturn.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          At the Stardust lab, Margo and the others stood with Dr. London and Mr. Tennison.  "If we find him—"

          "Find him alive, you mean," Tennison said, interrupting her.

          "We'll find him," Benny Ray growled, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the security man.

          "It has to be fast," London said.  "The longer he's out there, the greater the probability that he'll pass the virus along."

          "He'd never do that," Chance countered.

          "He'll stay away from populated areas," Benny Ray added.

          "But that's going to make it bloody hard to find him," C.J. said quietly.

          A young woman hurried into the room.  "Mr. Tennison, we have something.  This just came in over the police channels."  She handed him a printout.

          Tennison quickly scanned it, then handed it to Trout, who read it and passed it to Margo.  "He'll call again as soon as he finds a safe location."

          "You got a chopper?" Chance asked, reading over Margo's shoulder.

          Dr. London nodded.

          "Show me," the black man said.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Matt drove along a series of rural roads, passing several houses, all set well back from the road and surrounded by large fields, some fallow, some with the start of new crops.  At the intersection of two roads, he found another old gas station, this one obviously long-closed.  But there was still a phone booth.  He pulled in and climbed out of the car.

          Pulling the door to the booth open, he reached for the phone receiver.  It looked like it was undamaged.  He lifted the receiver, dropped in coins, then sighed with relief when he heard a dial tone.  He punched in the number.  A moment later Trout answered, "Matt?"

          "Yeah, it's me," he said, his eyes closing with relief.  "I've been exposed."

          "We guessed as much," the older man said.  "Where are you?"

          "I don't know exactly.  Can you trace this call?"

          "Hold on."  A moment later Trout said, "We're doing it now, just stay on the line.  How are you?"

          "I don't know," Matt admitted.  "My nose is still bleeding, and my chest feels funny."  He paused for a moment, then added, his voice tight, "Benny Ray and Margo were with me."

          "Everyone's been tested and they're fine," Trout assured.

"Kevin Morrison, too."

There was a pause, then Trout said, "Morrison's dead.  He killed himself when they took him to the lab to be tested."

          "Great," Matt sighed, his energy quickly ebbing away.  "That was our last chance to find out who was behind this, you know."

"I know," was Trout's frustrated reply.

"Did you find the first gas station I stopped at?"

"We did.  The patrolman and the young man you interrupted are both being tested as we speak, but London doesn't think they were exposed."  In the background he heard someone say "We have him!"

          "Matt?"

          "Yeah," he replied.

          "We have your location.  Stay there.  We're on the way."

          "Will do, but you can't get close."

          "Let us worry about that.  You just stay put.  That's an order, Shepherd."

          "I hear you, Trout."  Matt hung up.  Turning, he stalked determinedly back to the Saturn and used the lever inside the car to pop the trunk open.  Walking around, he opened it, his fingers mentally crossed.  In the trunk sat a plastic container almost full of gas.

          He lifted the container out and carried it over to the phone booth, splashing gas on the ground and on the glass walls.  Then he returned to the Saturn, splashing more of the gasoline on the car seats, dash and finally in the trunk.  Setting the container aside a safe distance away, Matt reached into his pocket and pulled out a matchbook.  He struck one and tossed it into the trunk where the small flame immediately exploded into a tangle of dancing fire.

          He flicked another match into the front seat, and one into the back.  The phone booth was next.  He stood, watching the fires burn for a moment, then walked over and hefted the container of the gas and carried it into a field that had been overgrown by weeds and grass year earlier.  He paused, looking up into the dark sky.  In the distance he could hear the soft sound of rotor blades – a helicopter.

          If it were the police, they might not understand the situation.

          Matt poured the gas out onto the ground, carefully creating a pattern.  He stepped out of the liquid lines, then lit a match and touched it to the ground.  A moment later a symbol burned brightly on the ground.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          In the helicopter the team, Trout, and Dr. London looked down at the burning symbol on the ground.  "The international sign for infectious disease," London said unnecessarily.

          "Where's Matt?" Margo asked, her gaze sweeping over the dark landscape.

          "There," Benny Ray said, pointing.

          Chance dropped the chopper closer to the ground. 

          Matt waved at them, trying to tell them not to land.   They watched as Shepherd lifted the plastic container and poured the remainder of the gasoline over his head.

          "What's he doing?" C.J. asked.

          "Makin' sure he don't infect anyone," Benny Ray said, his chest tightening.

          Chance held the hover steady above the burning sign as Matt waved them off again, then pointed at the symbol.

          Chance swung a little further away, then started to set the chopper down.  He stopped when Matt held up a matchbook and waved them off with large gestures.

          "Major, don't do it!" the pilot said, his voice echoing through the internal and external speakers.

          "Get away!" Matt yelled.

          Benny Ray keyed his mike and said, "Major, we understand the situation, sir. Dr. London is with us.  Put this on."  He nodded to C.J., who dropped out an isolation suit on a tether.  "Get that on, Boss and I'll tell you what happens next."

          Matt tossed the matches away, nodding.  He reached up, grabbing at the wildly flapping legs of the suit.

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          The team stood, looking through the thick glass that separated them from the treatment room where Matt lay on a gurney.  Around him, men and women worked in bio-suits.  One woman did nothing more than wipe blood off Shepherd's face.

          "It's not fair," Chance said softly, his gaze intent on the woman's every move.

          The others nodded, but they didn't look away from Matt and the doctors.

          "He saved us all," Margo added, equally soft.

          "He's strong," C.J. offered, trying to sound hopeful.

          Benny Ray sighed.  "Strong ain't gonna cut it if they don't have an anti-toxin… Damn," he concluded in an angry hiss.

          Dr. London stepped into the small room, stopping the conversation.  Trout was right behind him.  Both men looked tired and worried, which did nothing to ease the level of anxiety in the room.

          "How is he?" Margo demanded more than asked.

          London glanced down at the floor, then up at the woman and the others, saying, "We had enough anti-toxin for one injection," he said, then looked away from the worried faces, staring at Matt through the glass.

"That's good news, right?" Chance asked.

London sighed.  "We simply don't know if it will be enough, or if we even got it into him in time.  All we can do is wait."

          "How long before we know?" Benny Ray asked, his jaw muscles jumping.

          "The next twenty-four hours will tell the tale," Dr. London said.

          "Is there anything we can do?" Margo asked.

          Dr. London shook his head.  "No, I'm sorry."  He offered them a sympathetic thin smile.  "We'll be moving Mr. Shepherd in a few minutes, so let me show you to a more comfortable place to wait.  And we have some coffee and sandwiches waiting for you."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

          Eighteen hours later, the team was scattered around a small waiting room.  Chance sat in one of the comfortable chairs, his eyes closed -- sleeping or meditating.  Benny Ray sat in another chair that he had pulled over so he could watch the hallway leading to the area where Matt was being treated.  His eyes were open and focused, the sniper, waiting, watching.

          Across the room, near a window, C.J. was slowly folding the pages of a magazine into some bizarre origami creation.  He hummed softly under his breath, but no one seemed to notice, or if they did, no one said anything.  Margo paced quietly on the thick carpet, pausing from time to time to sit on the couch until anxiety forced her to her feet again.  From time to time she glanced at Benny Ray, willing the man to tell her someone was coming, but he never moved, never spoke.  His quietness was more upsetting than that radiating from Chance.

          She sighed and turned back, heading for C.J.  She couldn't help it.  She wondered what the hell he was doing, but she wasn't quite ready to ask.

          "Heads up, people," Benny Ray said softly, but it was enough to make the other three jump.  "Somebody's comin'."

          A few seconds later a man they hadn't met before stepped into the room.  He nodded to Benny Ray, then addressed them all, saying, "Would you please follow me."

          It wasn't a question and Margo asked, "Is Matt all right?"

          "Please, follow me."

          She and Benny Ray exchanged glances.  The sniper dipped his chin once, just enough for her to see.  She nodded. 

          Chance and C.J. stood, following Margo and Benny Ray as they fell into step behind the stranger.

          The man led down the hall Benny Ray had been watching, then down a second to a door at the far end.  He pointed to a rolling cart where several sets of what looked like green surgical scrubs sat.  "You'll have to put those on over your clothes," he explained.

          The team quickly pulled on the loose pants and shirts.  They donned the hats, boots, gloves and masks last.

The man gestured to the closed door.

          Benny Ray grabbed the knob and turned.  He pushed the door open and stepped inside, the others following.

          Matt lay on a narrow bed, the head slightly elevated.  Two IVs dripped liquids into his arms.  Monitors softly beat out a constant description of his condition.  He was awake.

          Margo and Benny Ray took positions on one side of the bed, Chance and C.J. on the other.

"How are you feeling?" Margo asked, reaching out to gently touch his shoulder with a gloved hand.

          Matt flashed them a tired grin.  "Better than dead… but not by much."

          "What have the doctors said?" Chance asked, sounding annoyed.  "No one's told us anything."

          "I probably know less than you do," Matt said, reaching over and groping for the controls.

Chance saved him the effort.  "Which way?"

"Up," Matt replied.  "I'm getting tired of staring at the ceiling."

Chance pressed a button that elevated the head of Shepherd's bed until he lifted his hand to say that was enough.

"Thanks," Matt said.  Before he could say anything more, the door swung open and Dr. London walked in to join them.  This time he was smiling.

"I hope that's good news," Margo said.

The scientist nodded excitedly.  "Yes, I just saw the last set of tests.  Mr. Shepherd is free of the virus."

Matt's eyes widened slightly.  "You mean it's all gone?"

London nodded.  "The anti-viral worked better than we could have hoped."

"When can I get out of here?" Shepherd asked.

"We'll need to monitor you for an additional forty-eight hours."

"Forty-eight?" C.J. asked.  "I thought you said he was cured."

"And he is," London assured them, "but we need to monitor him as his systems return to normal, to make sure that there are no lasting side-effects."

"Whatever it takes," Margo said.  "As long as he's okay."

"He'll be fine," the scientist promised.  The man turned and left.

As soon as the door closed the team broke out in celebration.  In his bed, Matt lay and watched them, a smile on his face.  "Hey," he said, and they quieted down.  "Trout still here?"

Margo nodded.  "You need to see him?"

Matt nodded.  "I owe a woman a Saturn."

 

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

 

Matt walked in from the kitchen at the Silver Star, an almost empty cup of coffee in his hand.  Scattered around the basement was his team.  The proprietary thought gave him a warm, satisfied feeling in the pit of his belly.  "So, everyone ready?" he asked.

"You bet," Benny Ray said, pushing to his feet.  He offered his hand to Chance and pulled the pilot to his feet.  "After all, y'all are payin'."

"Just wait," Chance warned him, but he was smiling, "next time you'll get yours."

"That's next time," the sniper said, tapping the black man's chest with his fingertip twice.

"I just want to know one thing," C.J. said to Benny Ray even as he gave Margo's dress a visual once over.  She glowered at him and he quickly looked away.

"What's that?" the sniper asked, grinning at the reaction Margo's glare prompted in the Brit.

"How'd you get up that hill so fast?"

"I wouldn't mind knowing that myself," Chance said.

Benny Ray grinned.  "Professional secret."

"Professional secret?" Margo echoed, her eyes rounding in an attempt to get him to elaborate.

"Yep," was all the taciturn sniper offered.

Matt grinned.  "Come on, people, let's go pay off our debt.  Next time it'll be my turn."

"Your turn?" C.J. asked.  "I think it's _my_ turn."

"You're not going to get a turn," Chance teased.

"I beg to differ.  Did I ever tell you about the time…"

The End


End file.
